


Stroke of Midnight

by ava_jamison



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing - Fandom, Red Robin - Fandom
Genre: M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:19:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison
Summary: Gotham's Annual Costume Party is a New Year's Tradition. So is dressing as your hero.





	Stroke of Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zolac_no_Miko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zolac_no_Miko/gifts).



> Happy New Year, Darling!

The costume shop was all out, which wasn’t surprising. The Pickwick Family was one of Gotham’s best and their annual New Year’s Eve costume ball was only a few hours away. The store had been out of rentals—and Tim had to grimace at the thought of a suit rental, but he guessed if you were only wearing the thing to a party, and not to go after a gang of drug dealers, that made a difference. Regardless, he had to go all the way to Bludhaven to find what he wanted.

An hour before the party he had what he needed laid out on the bed in the Quitely Avenue safehouse. It was easier to get ready here, and he wanted to surprise Dick. Why, exactly, he didn’t try to analyze. Surprise him, was all. Make Dick grin at him, though it wasn’t like it was hard to get him to do that. Tim shrugged and began peeling off the Red Robin suit. 

He had the top half off when a window slid open, and Nightwing slid through it, coming from the fire escape. “Hey, thought I saw you duck in here.” Going to the party? What are you wear—?” Nightwing’s eyes widened as he took in the yellow top and little green shorts, spread out on the bed. That’s not one of mine, is it?”

“I hope you never wore cheap polyester shorts.”

“Nah, mine were bulletproof—”

“What, for butt protection?”

“Hey, got to look out for the assets. I mean, not then…” Nightwing turned, checking out his own butt. 

“I don’t know, you wore those for a long time. This is your college student version. People talked, even then.” 

“I’ve only gotten better with age.” Dick fingered the shorts, then spread them back out, like he was remembering doing the same thing years ago. He sighed. And smiled. “You’re taking a risk, going as Robin.”

“Not like half of Gotham won’t be dressed as you.”

“Or Red Robin.”

“They won’t be dressed as me. Not when they can wear this.” Tim waved a hand at the bright colored uniform halves.

“Don’t undersell the red tights, little brother. Depends on how cold it gets tonight.” Dick moved the uniform over and stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. “Go, try on. I want to see.”

Tim felt his face redden, and he realized, up until that point, that he hadn’t really thought this through. It was one thing to pretend to be Dick. It was another to wear the shorts. It wasn’t too late to go as a pirate. Or a ninja. 

Dick’s grin was huge, like he was seeing the wheels turn in Tim’s head, too. “Getting cold feet, Timmy? Go on, let me see the whole thing.” Dick waved a hand toward the bathroom. “I want to see if you can carry this off.”

“What are you going as?”

“Ah, that’d be telling. I’ll surprise you tonight.”

“I bet it’s Superman,” Tim said, referring to Dick’s usual m.o.

Dick winked at him. “Nothing wrong with dressing like your boyhood hero.” 

Tim felt his face heat. He picked up the suit, cheap yellow and green polyester slippery in his grip, and retreated to the bathroom, where he could at least get back his game face. He slipped on the costume. The bathroom didn’t have a decent mirror—he tried to see what he looked like from the waist down, but he couldn’t quite do it. He twisted and turned, but the sink was in the way. Fair enough, because he wasn’t going to be able to go as Robin. His legs just felt too bare. And besides, Dick was right. It was cold out.

“Waiting out here, Timmy. Need help pulling up the shorts?”

“I’m fine,” Tim said. “But I’ve changed my mind.”

“Don’t chicken out now, little brother. Be a man.”

“Says the guy who wore hot pants.”

“Good flexibility, Timmy. Lots of give in spandex. Even bulletproof spandex. Come on, let me see.”

There was nothing else to do. Even if he didn’t wear the thing to the party, Dick was waiting out there and he wasn’t going to chicken out now. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the bedroom.

Dick wolf-whistled. “Turn around.”

Tim pirouetted. “Happy?”

“Nice butt, there, but your legs leave something to be desired.”

“We can’t all be chorus girls, Dick.”

“Chorus girls? That sounds like an Alfredism. Maybe you need to get out more.” Dick stood up, taking Tim’s arm. “Come to a place called Bludhaven sometime. I’ll show you around.” He pulled Tim toward the bathroom. 

“What are you—”

“Not done with your costume, Timmy. Stand in front of the sink. Now, give me your leg.”

“What?”

“You want to be Robin, don’t you? Robin’s limber.” He patted Tim’s left leg. Tim let him grab it and Dick placed his foot high on the wall, next to the sink. “Now, keep it there.” He reached into the cabinet above the toilet and grabbed a bag of toiletries. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Tim said, when he saw what Dick had in his hand. A razor. “You’re not—” Tim went to move his leg, but Dick’s hand snaked around his ankle, warm and firm, holding his foot flat on the wall.

“Go big or go home, little brother,” Dick said, and Dick said it like the dare it was. “Don’t move.” The can of shaving lotion shushed out foam and the scent of shaving cream filled the small room. Dick lathered up his hand, and then it was smoothing, soap and Dick’s warm, supple fingers, over his calf. Tim shivered.

“Cold, huh? Won’t last long.”

Tim was afraid to say a word. Didn’t know, for a moment, what word to say. 

Dick smiled, completely clueless, and began to shave Tim’s calf. He did it with sure, deft strokes. “You don’t have much hair past your knee, and it’s all light. Maybe you can get away with only shaving from the knee down. 

“Yes!” Tim said, way too fast, loud and high.

“Okay,” Dick laughed, like maybe he wasn’t so clueless after all. “Lean on me,” he said, letting Tim brace his body against his hip. 

Tim breathed in the smell of Dick, warm and sweet and so, so him. He could get drunk off of this, and at the same time it was driving him nuts. He was caught between the two feelings, wanting to give in and having to be strong, and he balanced on the precipice, like Robin on a tightwire.

“Switch legs.” 

Dick’s warm grip released his ankle, and in a haze, Tim let himself exchange one foot for the other. Tim closed his eyes, willing his body to obey, willing himself not to get hard. He thought about all the terrible things he could, and it was too bad that he couldn’t really relax into this, _feel_ Dick’s movements, but just that it was happening was plenty, and hey, he could compartmentalize. He was a Robin, after all. He focused on his breath, on slowing down his pulse, on not getting hard, and most of all, on saving this for later, when he was alone. It would keep him going for months, maybe forever. 

“There,” Dick said, letting go of Tim’s foot, and Dick’s own voice sounded—did it sound a tiny bit rough? Hoarse? Maybe Tim imagined it. But then Dick cleared his throat and Tim knew he hadn’t imagined it. That went into his saved folder. He’d examine it later. Right now, he had to clear his own throat and bounce on his toes. His legs were tingling and he felt pounds lighter, more springy. It was probably just adrenaline.

“See? Don’t you feel like Robin now? Hot pants Robin, I mean.”

Tim smiled. They were getting back on even keel. Robin had just done a quadruple flip and landed on his feet. 

Dick grinned back at him. “It’s nice, you know? That you’re going as me. You could be going as Batman.”

“Or as a ninja or a pirate,” Tim met Dick’s piercing blue eyes. 

“But you aren’t.”

And that’s when Tim knew two things: one—he was going to wear the costume after all. No take backs. And two—he could give as good as he got. Just wait until Dick got to the party tonight. Just wait unitl midnight. “I did have one other costume option,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I almost picked your old Nightwing costume.”

“Why didn’t you?” Dick titled his head, checking out Tim’s butt, probably seeing how it measured up to his own. “You wouldn’t have had to shave your legs.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have the cleavage for it.” Tim opened the window and shimmied out onto the fire escape, the air icy on his bare legs.

“You’re gonna freeze to death!” Dick said, leaning out the window.

“How’d you even stand it?”

“Got to keep moving, Robin.”

Tim grinned. That he could do. He shot his line at the next building over and pushed away from the fire escape. “See you at the party, Nightwing.” 

Dick’s voice echoed after him as he set off into the darkness, rich and fond. “See you at midnight, Boy Wonder.”


End file.
